


there's no rush (we'll get there eventually)

by orphan_account



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: 5+1 Things, F/F, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, au of some sorts, eventually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2020-08-10 09:13:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20132992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: five times tobin and christen see each other after a game, and one time they actually decide to do something about whatever the fuck's between them.oranother 5+1 things except I don't put all five + one things on there because i haven't written them yet





	1. 1. i'm gonna sip on this drink, when i'm fucked up

**Author's Note:**

> coming out of an eight month hiatus-of-sorts to write/post this thing because i crave instant validation and was inspired by the vibes of Unforgettable - French Montana, Swae Lee and had to do something about it. + the royals and ptfc draw earlier in the season.
> 
> of course, this is an AU where teams are kinda like the current ones? idk just run with it - none of this fic mirrors how real life is supposed to work. everything's too spicy.
> 
> also yeah forgive any errors i just wrote this and posted it no editing today folks

It’s a tie.

Of course it’s a tie.

And Tobin knows why - they both gave it their all. Soccer is a team sport, of course, but there are always rivalries. Smirks traded from across the field, footwork a little  _ too _ fancy, everything during the game leading to-

This.

Tobin catches Christen’s eye from across the room, music booming through the speakers and echoing into her core. Even though the bar’s dimly lit, she can see the heads of Christen’s teammates; Kelly, Vero, others she’s too preoccupied to name.

She watches as Christen puts her hand on Vero’s shoulder, saying something that Tobin can’t decipher. 

Christen head’s thrown back a moment later as she laughs, the purple and blue lights of the bar reflecting off the sheen of her slightly sweaty throat and Tobin can’t help that she notices these things.

She just does. It doesn’t have to be healthy.

But Christen’s laughing at something Vero just said and the thought ignites something in the back of Tobin’s brain - jealousy, Tobin realizes but wants to deny.

Christen turns her head again and brown eyes meet green. And she can feel something crackle between them, as cliche as it sounds; electricity in a dimly lit bar with beers in their hands.

“You done?” 

The question brings Tobin back to the table she’s at; Alex gripping onto her forearm, Allie grinning while taking a sip of some alcoholic beverage (Tobin doesn’t know what, nor does she care), and Kling eyeing her reaction.

“What?” Tobin asks.

“You done eyeing Press?” Kling questions again. “You aren’t that discreet, you know.”

“I don’t have to be,” Tobin replies, smirking a little. “She’s staring back.”

“Stop chasing her,” Alex says, her words only slightly slurred. “Stay with me- us.”

But Tobin’s already looking away, searching for those green eyes but Christen’s gone from her table, Vero still chatting with Kelley.

“I’ll be right back.”

Tobin shakes off Alex’s insistent hand, worming her way through the swarms of people before reaching the back of the bar. 

Walking out of the back entrance, Tobin takes in the breath of fresh air, appreciating the slight breeze brushing across her skin as opposed to the body heat and sweat from inside the bar. The music is muted from out here and it smells faintly of cigarette smoke, city lights poking out from the top of the building.

“Fancy seeing you out here,” someone says from beside her and the voice sends chills down her spine - she knows, already, that it’s Christen.

“I could say the same for you.”

Christen takes a sip of her drink, then lets out a laugh. “Please. You followed me out here.”

“Maybe I needed a break,” Tobin replies, walking over to the wall Christen’s leaning against. “It’s a little much in there.”

“And out here?”

Tobin looks at Christen - her crop top, bra straps poking out, a pair of flowing pants that cut off just above the ankle, and yes, it’s-

“A lot better.”

“You’re just saying that.”

Tobin smirks, taking a sip out of her own cup. Her nose crinkles at the beer, lukewarm after staying in her hands for so long.

“Maybe,” Tobin shrugs. “Probably not.”

They descend into silence for a couple of moments, observing their surroundings. Tobin notices the overflowing trash can a couple of feet from them, an ashtray full of cigarette butts.

“You played well today. Nice goal,” Christen suddenly says, her voice quieter than before. She’s looking at Tobin,  _ really _ looking and Tobin meets Christen’s gaze, letting herself get lost in those green eyes. She subconsciously leans forward, towards Christen who’s doing the same and it feels like something’s building - slowly, surely, the opposite of a fire spreading through the trees-

The sound of sirens come and go, and Tobin feels a gust blow a strand of hair into her face.

They both jump away from each other simultaneously.

“Thanks. You too.”

The door swings open, slamming against a random plastic crate presumably there to hold it open and a couple of people, obviously drunk, come swaying out. There’s a car waiting for them, thank god, and Tobin listens as the car door slams shut and drives away.

“You going to head back in?” Tobin asks.

“Yeah,” Christen replies, standing up from the wall. “I need to go make sure Vero and Kelley haven’t killed each other yet.”

Tobin stands a little straighter (ironic, since she’s anything but) at the sound of Vero’s name, taking another swig of her lukewarm drink. 

“Is Vero the type to kill someone?”

Christen looks at her a little weirdly, then lets out a sigh. “No, she can just be a little- much, with this much alcohol in her system.”

“Got it,” Tobin replies a little awkwardly, knowing whatever moment they had - if there even was one - is now gone.

“Will I see you in there?” Christen asks, walking over to the entrance.

“Yeah,” Tobin replies. “I’ll be back in a few.”

Christen gives her a small smile then walks back into the building, the sound of the crowd swelling for a moment before the door shuts. Then it’s muted again, music still thumping from inside the building, crowd effectively silenced.

Tobin takes in another deep breath of the night air, placing her head on her hands.

_ Jesus. _

_ What the fuck am I doing? _


	2. a dead man walking tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *plop*
> 
> chapter title from 5sos's "youngblood" even though i didn't listen to it more than once while writing this thing  
also CAN YOU BELIEVE TODAY'S GAMES christen almost hat trick's like 300 times and we get pissed tobs what a fun time

They’re playing each other again a month later by some twisted version of fate and it’s the same push and pull; Tobin showing off a little, maybe  _ too _ much and Christen making solo runs into the box.

And this time,  _ this time _ , the Royals are winning 2 - 1 due to one of Christen’s balls landing in the upper corner of the net and header from Kelley. It’s a game more grueling than most, with three yellow cards already shown and a countless number of other fouls committed.

Tobin still hasn’t scored yet, and she can feel herself getting restless.

(hell, the whole team’s fired up - frustrated with not scoring once in the second half with five minutes left.)

But there’s something special about the crowd tonight; the stadium lights bright as they connect their passes. Tobin sends a cross off her right foot and she can feel the sharp inhale of the crowd as Alex finds her way in front of the goal, the ball coming directly for her head-

Jaelene Hinkle, fucking  _ Hinkle _ , connects her cleat with Alex’s shoulder.

And Alex crumbles to the ground like a potato sack.

The stadium erupts with boos and Tobin sees red because no one’s allowed to fuck with Alex, especially  _ Hinkle _ and she’s marching over, not completely in charge of her own body, her hand clenched in a fist-

But then there’s a hand firmly set on her shoulder. 

Tobin whips her head around.

And Christen standing there, in her yellow Royals jersey, a bead of sweat trickling down the side of her forehead and Tobin’s still seething, her breath coming hard and fast-

“Don’t even dare go off on me, Heath.”

Tobin slowly unclenches a fist, stretching out her fingers.

“She kicked Alex.”

Tobin doesn’t even recognize her own voice with how low and gravely it is, her words slightly menacing but Christen doesn’t even flinch.

“Hinkle’s not worth it.”

Tobin turns around again, looks at the scene behind her. The team trainer is there, crouched down with the medical personnel.

She can see Alex’s pink headband on the ground.

“Don’t.”

And Christen jerks Tobin back around so that she’s looking into Tobin’s eyes, glaring into them with an intensity Tobin didn’t know was possible.

“If you go there now and do what I thought you were about to do, you’ll get ejected,” Christen says, and her voice is low and even and it pierces through Tobin’s anger-filled haze. “You won’t be able to play. Because of  _ her _ .”

Christen points at Hinkle, who’s screaming at the ref for giving her a yellow.

Tobin looks at Alex, who’s still on the ground.

“Tobin.”

She slowly turns her head around again.

“Don’t do it.”

Tobin brushes Christen’s hand off her shoulder, giving Christen a small reassuring smile.

She’s about to walk over to the bench, maybe grab some water when she sees Hinkle getting in Allie’s face. Then Vero’s joining in, pulling Sinclair in while Kelley’s screaming at the ref and Alex is  _ still _ on the ground.

Tobin has no idea who pushes the other first.

But then Hinkle punches Allie in the face, and all hell breaks loose.

\---

Tobin ends up getting ejected from the field along with Hinkle, Allie, Vero, Sinclair, Kelley, and about three other people Tobin can’t be bothered to name.

She  _ also _ ends up breaking her nose, spraining her wrist, and jamming three fingers.

They release her from the hospital after resetting her nose and giving her instructions to walk to a nearby Walgreens to get a wrist splint $90 cheaper than the one the doctor would’ve given to her.

And the worst part - the  _ worst _ part, is that she’s on pain meds. Which means no alcohol. Which means there’s nowhere for her to go.

Mark screams at her when she gets back to the hotel, clearly  _ very _ distressed that four of his best players are going to be out for at least three games and that Tobin better think long _ and _ hard about the consequences of her actions.

She lets Mark finish his rant before returning to her room.

And instead of a teammate there to greet her, she’s met with silence - Alex is being held overnight for observation because of a possible concussion.

Tobin flops down on her bed with a sigh, staring at the cracks of the ceiling for a little bit before her phone suddenly buzzes.

_ “You’re such an idiot.” _

“Thank you. That means a lot.”

Tobin hears Christen chuckle through her phone and she closes her eyes for a moment, lets her mouth curve into a small smile.

_ “I told you Hinkle wasn’t worth it,” _ Christen says through the phone,  _ “she’s been a little weird with Kelley ever since she brought her girlfriend to a team dinner.” _

Tobin breathes in. Breathes out.

“I should’ve punched her harder, then.”

_ “No!” _ Christen exclaims. _ _

There’s a sudden knock on her door and Tobin grumbles for a moment before pushing herself up, walking over and opening it.

“You shouldn’t have punched her in the first place,” Christen says, and Tobin can’t believe this is happening.

Christen Press is standing in front of her hotel room door at 1:17 in the morning, wearing a Stanford hoodie and leggings, rolling her eyes presumably at Tobin’s long response time.

(and she’s never looked so good.)

“You snuck out?” Tobin asks, stepping aside to let Christen in.

“Technically it’s not sneaking out if you don’t have a curfew,” Christen replies. “I still can’t believe Vero broke your nose, Heath. Heck, I still can’t believe you got in that mess.”

Tobin sighs, turning the loveseat around and cracking open the window so that they’re sitting next to each other, letting the night breeze brush over their faces once again.

(it’s not unlike last time, Tobin thinks.)

“I’m sorry, okay?”

And Christen’s eyes land on Tobin’s, analyzing her facial expression not unkindly, with eyes full of a softness Tobin doesn’t have the energy to decipher.

“You’re not,” Christen says after a moment. “You might be unhappy you got kicked off the field, but you’re not sorry.”

Tobin doesn’t say anything, letting the words sink in and the slight ache of her wrist speak for itself.

She sees a full moon through the window.

“Thanks for attempting to cool me down though,” Tobin finally says a couple of moments later.

“But it didn’t work,” Tobin notices Christen brush a hand through her hair, “and I was worried. Because I saw you sprint towards that mess as soon as Allie went down.”

“I-”

“Look at you now, Tobin. Wrist sprained, nose broken - and it could’ve been a lot worse. Any of them could’ve kicked you in the head, knocked you out. Then you’d be in the same position as Alex.”

Christen really  _ does _ sound worried and a pang of guilt rushes through Tobin as she fiddles with a loose strand of fabric in her shorts, because she can deal with the damage dealt to herself. But Christen?

“I’m sorry for making you worry.”

And that apology  _ is _ sincere because she can’t stand the idea of a distressed Christen, not even for a second.

Then Christen looks at her, places a hand on Tobin’s thigh, and there’s that softness again in her eyes.

“Just don’t do it again, okay?”

Tobin takes Christen’s hand with her healthy one, picking it up gently and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Okay,” Tobin replies. “Okay, I won’t.”

“Promise?” Christen asks.

There’s no doubt or hesitation with the word that comes out next from Tobin’s mouth.

“Forever.”

And for some reason, it feels like something more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know that this would never happen in real life, but let's enjoy an au where tobin and kelley and allie get in a fistfight with hinkle? because this is the most fun i've had writing fanfic in a while and it's fun making it ~spicy~
> 
> also these soft gal pals are going to ruin me anyways-
> 
> comments appreciated! please note that i read all of them even though i don't respond. also i just created a soccer sideblog come scream at me @toboggan23 on tumblr


	3. and when you move, i move

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for the support y'all. here's another update (somehow these keep getting longer and longer...)

It’s not too hard to buy a ticket for the next Royals game, and Tobin finds herself flying to Utah for a home game versus the Red Stars, taking advantage of her newfound free time.

The starting lineup for the game is a little comical, Tobin thinks, as she sees the absence of Kelley, Vero, Hinkle, and a couple of other names - the only one she cares about, really, is Christen’s.

(this is past unhealthy, spending over $100 to fly to Christen’s game, but she might be beyond reason now.)

She gets to the stadium thirty minutes before the game’s supposed to start, watching as Christen warms up with the rest of her team looking unfairly attractive in her white jersey. And before she knows it, Tobin’s pulling out her phone to text Christen-

_ “You should wear white more - you look stunning.” _

She knows Christen won’t see the message until after the game but it’s too late to delete it now, Tobin reasons.

Her seat’s a little far up since she bought it last minute but Tobin continues to watch the warmups, far enough away that she can stare at Christen for as long as she wants and not get caught-

Then Christen turns her head, looks _ directly _ at her, and grins.

(if Tobin was standing, she’d swear she’d go weak in the knees.)

The game starts a few minutes and right out of the gate Christen’s dominating on the field, sprinting past defenders with a speed Tobin knew she had but was never able to really appreciate until now. She looks almost _ angelic _ in her white jersey, connecting passes and running into the box-

Then the ball flies off Christen’s left foot-

The crowd goes wild.

And Tobin’s grinning as she watches Christen’s teammates tackle her because it’s only the 18th minute, after all, and they’re already leading 1-0. She watches the replays of the goal on the screen, shamelessly eyeing the close-ups of Christen because she’s positively _ glowing _ with the stadium lights bright in the night sky, reflecting off of the sweaty sheen of her body.

The rest of the game follows in a similar fashion, with Christen scoring another goal in the 40th minute from a _ header _, no less.

It’s the 83rd minute now and the second half has been grueling so far - the Red Stars came out of the locker room determined to up their offense, forcing the Royals to go more on a defensive streak - but Tobin’s still engrossed in the game (and in Christen) as always.

But then the crowd gasps as Christen gains possession of the ball, slipping past a defender, then another.

And Tobin watches as she runs down the field and hears the crowd gasp as Christen Press, yes, _ Christen Press _ , _ nutmegs _ the third defender, passes the ball to herself and performs one of the most beautiful kicks Tobin has ever seen.

The ball arcs high in the sky then lands square in the back of the net.

And as the camera livestreams Christen’s reaction, she turns with a smile on her face, looks _ directly _ at Tobin, and _ winks. _

Tobin almost passes out.

\---

The realization that she might be in love with Christen Press comes when Tobin’s leaning against a concrete pole watching Christen getting interviewed from a couple of feet away. Because Christen’s just so- _ animated _, clearly passionate about the latest question about the ability of the national team to empower young girls and overcome gender barriers.

Christen says something about “intersectionality in sports.” And Tobin’s left slightly jaw-slacked over how eloquent Christen is.

When the interviewer walks away and Tobin’s sure the hallway is mostly empty, she approaches Christen ready to congratulate her, but suddenly Christen’s arms are wrapped around her neck.

“I’m so glad you came today,” Christen whispers, her breath slightly tickling Tobin’s skin and Tobin swears a part of her goes to heaven.

“You did amazing,” Tobin murmurs back, letting her arms settle underneath Christen’s. “You’re just so good, you know?”

Christen steps back a couple of moments later and Tobin can see her green eyes sparkling under the lights.

“I was thinking of you when I nutmegged that defender,” Christen says, grinning.

Tobin just grins back, too awestruck to say anything.

“It was still weird to play without Kelley or Vero though,” she continues, letting Tobin walk with her outside of the stadium. “So many people are suspended.”

“Yeah,” Tobin manages to get out. “Yeah, so many.”

“And you’re one of them,” Christen says, elbowing Tobin in the ribs, “You idiot.”

(Tobin’s just grateful for the contact.)

They stop at Christen’s car and it feels a little bit like a make-or-break moment.

“What time’s your flight out?”

Tobin goes still.

“Uh, I might’ve not booked one yet?”

Christen turns to her and slaps Tobin’s forearm with a mock expression of disbelief. “Tobin! Where were you thinking of staying tonight?”

“I could make a hotel reservation now, maybe?” Tobin tries, pulling out her phone.

“No!” Christen exclaims, opening the passenger car door. “Stay with me. You’ll save money.”

“You’re telling me Press Lodging doesn’t charge for rooms?” Tobin asks, attempting to mask her mind going haywire from those three words “stay with me” and how simply Christen said them like it was no big deal, almost like it was a natural occurrence, something that happens every day and _ there’s _ a thought-

“Not for special guests,” Christen replies, jerking Tobin out of her spiral. 

Then she winks again.

Tobin dives into the car.

\---

“So,” Christen says, turning the key, “Welcome to my apartment.”

Tobin steps past the doorway, noticing how all the pillows match the couch throws which compliment the rug nicely and it only makes sense that _ Christen Press _ lives here.

“Normally there’d be two dogs here but they’re at my sister’s until after the World Cup,” Christen comments. “I just don’t want to move them around too much.”

“Yeah, I mean- wow,” Tobin takes a deep breath in, noticing the distinct smell of Christen’s laundry detergent and light perfume in the air, “nice apartment.”

“Thanks!” Christen replies with a grin, walking in and Tobin quickly follows, almost like she’s entranced.

(maybe she is. she doesn’t know anymore.)

“Unfortunately, this nice apartment doesn’t have a guest bedroom, but it does have a pullout couch,” Christen says, presumably flopping on said couch.

The couch responds with a loud _ crack, _splitting down the middle so that it looks more like a “v” than a bed.

Tobin explodes with laughter.

“... or maybe not.” 

And Christen’s grinning, watching Tobin and then _ she _starts laughing as well and they’re both doubling over at the same time.

Tobin can’t believe that she just witnessed Christen Annemarie Press, the _ epitome _ of beauty and grace, break a fucking couch.

“You-” Tobin tries to contain her laughter, “how does that even _ happen _?”

“I shipped it from Chicago,” Christen answers simply, now shaking her head at the ruined couch, “and it must’ve fractured something.”

“Or maybe you flopped on it with such force that you split it down the middle!”

Christen turns to face her slowly, with a mock glare and her arms crossed over her chest.

“Are you calling me-”

“No! Of course not,” Tobin corrects. “I mean, not that it’s a bad thing at all - I think all shapes and sizes are beautiful and I love them all, well not like in-love love just like like-love love if that makes sense-”

Christen sets her hand on Tobin’s forearm and gives it a slight squeeze.

“I was joking.”

Tobin shuts up.

“Come on, I’ll show you the bathroom,” Christen says, still clutching onto Tobin’s arm as she guides Tobin down the hall. “Did you pack a toothbrush?”

Tobin thinks about what she shoved into her bag five minutes before leaving, and she’s pretty sure a toothbrush wasn’t included.

“Um- I don’t think so?”

Christen lets out a dramatic sigh, turning around and rolling her eyes.

“Tobin Heath, what am I going to do with you?”

\---

They go through the motions of switching between who’s in the bathroom - Tobin taking a quick shower and pretending that she doesn’t spend a little too long enjoying the smell of Christen’s shampoo - and 45 minutes later, they’ve come to a divisive point.

“I’m already staying in your apartment, I shouldn’t take over your bed too!” Tobin argues.

“And where would you sleep instead?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure you didn’t break the mattress in the pull-out so I could take that out and put it on the floor-”

“You are _ not _ sleeping on the floor, Tobin,” Christen says, crossing her arms. “My bed is big enough for both of us.”

And it seems like the suggestive nature of Christen’s last sentence hits them at the same time - Tobin letting out an uncomfortable cough looking down and Christen turning away, running a hand through her hair. Suddenly, there’s this tension in the air Tobin’s not too sure what to do with.

“Are you sure?” Tobin asks a moment later, electing to ignore it.

“Of course. You’re injured too - you should have an actual bed to sleep on.”

They’ve both already changed as well, Christen wearing a silk pajama top with a pair of fuzzy pants looking positively adorable and Tobin’s still not quite sure that this is happening. 

She’s sharing a bed. With Christen Press.

But Tobin’s happy to see that Christen takes the left side of the bed because Tobin normally takes the right. There’s this simple domesticity to all of this that feels natural, normal, something that Tobin could do every day.

And Tobin’s not quite sure what to do with that thought.

So when Christen turns off the lights and mumbles “goodnight,” Tobin says goodnight too and turns her back towards Christen, trying to minimize the contact between them as much as possible.

\--- 

She’s back in Portland that night after booking herself a flight in the morning, while she was still in Christen’s apartment. Tobin had awoken to the bed empty next to her and the smell of coffee motivating her to get out of Christen’s bed. Admittedly, she’d slept surprisingly well. But whether it’s because of the mattress or the company, Tobin doesn’t know.

Even now, she doesn’t want to think about it.

She’s had the whole flight, for goodness sake, to ponder her emotions and she keeps coming back to the same conclusion - that she might be a little bit in love with Christen Press. Because there’s this way that she conducts herself with such grace that’s a little hard to get over.

Then there are also the little things.

Like the way Christen’s face lights up when she smiles. Or how she looks so concentrated when reading a book. Or how she might be a literal ray of sunshine.

Tobin’s smitten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey can you believe this whole chapter was tobs in gay panic and christen being a literal goddess?
> 
> anyways come scream at me on tumblr @toboggan23 and comment here if you wish! i get a smile every time i see an email notification :D


	4. and we can't see clearly through the fog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long-ish update time. tbh it'll probably get worse from here  
also it's shorter but that's ok
> 
> inspired by one of the royal's recent games where christen just looked exhausted but she tried ok

It’s after a game, and Tobin’s supposed to be ecstatic.

They’ve just beaten the Courage 3-1 with Tobin even scoring a goal in the 23rd minute, beating a couple of defenders and slipping it in the back of the net beautifully, if Tobin says so for herself. But it’s her job, so she’ll give herself a pat on the back and move on.

(the Royals are playing right now, and that’s all she can think about.)

She scrolls through her social media feed endlessly, looking for a summary of what’s happened in the 68 minutes of play she’s missed before pulling up a stream of the game.

The first thing that hits her is that Christen looks tired.

Absolutely fucking exhausted.

She’s still making her runs when she can though, and Tobin watches as she slips past a couple of defenders before sending a cross. But this cross seems to take everything out of her, and Christen collapses.

Not like fainting or heat stroking or anything. Just falling down on the field, chest heaving even through the grainy livestream, and taking a second too long to get back up.

And before she knows it, Tobin’s opening her laptop and searching up flights to Utah, hoping to find one that’s sooner rather than later. However, she doesn’t.

The next one available is in a week.

Tobin sighs, falling back into her pillows as she continues to watch the game, focusing admittedly a little too much on Christen. And as much as she would like to play it off as mild concern for a friend, she knows it’s much more than that - she crossed that line long ago.

The game ends, the Royals winning 1-0.

She watches a little bit of postgame before shutting off the TV, fidgeting on the couch for a little before standing up and walking around the apartment.

Tobin’s restless. All fidgety and full of nervous energy because she just wants to know that Christen’s okay, that she hasn’t played herself to death, that her eyes still carry the same twinkle and her hugs still feel the same.

She considers juggling for a bit, then realizes that soccer reminds her of Christen and all her focus is gone. Tobin can’t even go for twenty seconds in this state.

And Tobin realizes that for once that she’s actually reaching for her phone.

Maybe she should just call Christen.

But as her fingers automatically click on Christen’s contact, her thumb hovering over the “call” button, Tobin hesitates. Because maybe Christen just wants to be left alone, maybe she isn’t out of the locker room yet even though it’s already been fifty-five minutes, maybe she just doesn’t want to hear Tobin’s voice right now.

Tobin’s phone chooses this exact moment to buzz.

“Hello?”

_ “Hey _ ,” a soft voice says through the phone, and Tobin swears she’s never been so relieved to hear anyone before because somehow, Christen decided to call  _ her _ ,  _ “is this a good time?” _

“Yeah, um,” Tobin curses herself for hesitating, “of course.”

_ “If it’s not it’s fine, I mean I know it’s late-” _

“Nah,” Tobin says, chuckling a little bit because apparently Christen was nervous too, “no, you’re fine.”

_ “Promise?” _

“Of course.”

There’s a little bit of silence and Tobin can sense Christen hesitating. Suddenly, she wants to be the one to take initiative, get Christen to open up a little more.

(maybe she just finds every aspect of Christen fascinating and wants to know more - but not like that’s weird or anything.)

“Is this about today’s game?” Tobin asks, her voice soft as she sits down on her bed and collapses on the pillows.

_ “A little,” _ Christen replies,  _ “I mean, you caught the tail end of the game. I wasn’t 100%.” _

“Hey, that’s okay.”

Tobin pauses for a little bit, choosing her next words carefully.

“Y’know, I was actually about to call you to check how you were. Then you called me.”

And Tobin’s letting out a half-smile at Christen’s chuckle from the phone speaker, happy that she could make Christen laugh even in this postgame-crash state.

_ “Yeah?” _

“Yeah.”

_ “I’m hanging in there,”  _ Christen replies, and Tobin can detect the tiredness slipping into her voice on the contrary,  _ “thanks for checking in. Even though I called you first _ .”

Tobin chuckles, letting her mouth widen into a grin. “Is it a match now?”

_ “No, Tobs _ ,” Christen laughs, _ “I’m not ready for another one yet. Today’s was a little rough.” _

(and Tobin forces herself to shelve the feeling of warmth that rushed up to her face with the nickname, said with a laugh, said in a way that Tobin doesn’t think she’ll ever get sick of.)

_ “I was just tired and not all the way in,” _ Christen continues.

_ “And before you ask, it was probably because of our busy schedule and lack of sleep lately. Not anything like… burnout. Nothing you need to worry about.” _

The implication behind what Christen’s just said makes Tobin’s chest ache a little, and Tobin can’t help that her voice is this sincere and gentle when she replies.

“I’m always going to worry about you, Chris.”

Christen lets out a small laugh, and Tobin can imagine her smile from a state away.

_ “Thanks, Tobin,”  _ she pauses for a quick second, then continues.  _ “I’m getting there though, slowly. I said all that stuff about bringing joy to the field when I play, and it helps.” _

They descend into silence for a couple of moments, Tobin waiting for Christen to continue because she wants to here more,  _ knows _ Christen has more to say but she won’t push, she’ll just let it come out when it wants. There’s no urgency here, there’s just- the two of them, a state away, maybe a centimeter away from a confession Tobin’s not too sure she’s ready to hear yet.

_ “But, um,” _ Christen chuckles,  _ “you help, actually. With the joy part. You remind me about why I fell in love with soccer in the first place. So, uh, thanks.” _

Tobin’s a little stunned by the confession because never would she have thought that her playing soccer would make Christen Press, queen of soft smiles (as chosen by her, of course), just a little bit happier. 

_ “Sorry, did I scare you off? I feel like that was a little much-” _

“No, no Chris,” Tobin finally replies, her voice soft, snapping out of her daze, “just- you’re amazing, okay?”

She pauses a moment before continuing.

“And I’m honored that I get to make soccer a little more joyful. For you.”

Their conversation strays from there from the heavy-hitting topics to more about their days - Tobin’s recent escapades into iced coffee, the new yoga routine Christen has been trying out - and it feels comfortable,  _ domestic _ even. And when Tobin checks the time, sees that it’s 2 am on both of their parts, it’s hard to say goodbye.

And if Tobin almost let an “I love you” slip out before they hung up the phone, it doesn’t have to mean anything just yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOFt i tell you
> 
> screech on tumblr @toboggan23 i promise i don't bite. also thank you for the continued support!


	5. oh, you look so free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's here!! an update!! we're almost done!! it's long!! it's been two weeks!! 
> 
> i wrote half of this on my phone, sorry if there are any mistakes

Tobin arrives at the next national camp by powering on her phone the moment she lands in Florida, smiling a little when she sees a text from Christen-

_ “Fly safe! Text me when you get here :)” _

_ “just landed,” _ Tobin types,  _ “nothing to worry abt, just some turbulence.” _

She gets a reply instantly.

_ “Can’t have turbulence injuring our best right-winger ;)” _

And just like that, they’re off again.

Ever since the fateful phonecall a month ago, they’ve been talking a lot more; firing texts off at a rapid pace, calling each other in the late nights when there’s nothing else to do, facetiming occasionally because Tobin had mentioned she wanted to “meet the dogs but i can’t fly over right now and pictures don’t do them justice!”

It’s gotten to a point where her teammates are commenting on the amount of time she spends on her phone, and Tobin can feel the rumor mills churning.

Except, she doesn’t care one bit. Because she knows Christen’s just a text, phonecall, click away.

They chat on Tobin’s entire Uber ride to the hotel they’ll be staying at for the next couple of days, texting about whatever strikes them in the moment -  _ “You should really try my mom’s mac n’ cheese sometime” _ and  _ “the palm tree i just passed looked like it was dying” _ and  _ “Can’t believe we’re playing Canada in a couple of days, I’m going to end up with bruises everywhere”. _

Tobin checks into the hotel, a little disappointed she’s rooming with Kelley instead of Christen. But Kelley’s not the worst roommate she could ask for.

She rethinks her previous statement when she unlocks the door to her hotel room, prepared to settle down a bit when Kelley jumps out of the closet.

Tobin screeches, dropping everything at once.

Including her very heavy duffle bag. 

Which just happens to have a hard object in it (shampoo bottle, maybe?) that lands on Tobin’s uncovered big toe.

“Kelley O’Hara, I’m going to murder you.”

\---

And it doesn’t get any better from there, since apparently Kelley took a video of the scare and sent it to everyone on the team - Christen Press included.

Christen texts Tobin her room number along with a couple of laughing emojis in response to the video and Tobin leaves her room after fifteen minutes, beelining towards room 104. Christen open the door with a smile, stepping aside to let Tobin in. And then-

_ Oh. _

Christen’s got her arms wrapped around Tobin’s torso and Tobin’s hit with the smell of Christen’s shampoo as Christen leans her head on Tobin’s shoulder, letting her hair touch Tobin’s nose. Tobin instinctually lets her arms go around Christen’s and it’s all so much, so much at once because  _ holy shit I’m hugging Christen Press _ .

At a point, she even releases her arms and just lets them dangle since  _ how long is too long for a hug? _ but Christen doesn’t make any move to let her go or really do anything in response so Tobin wraps her arms around Christen again, letting herself enjoy this for just a moment.

Even though all her senses are hyperaware. Even though her skin feels like it’s on fire.

Then Christen steps back like it wasn’t a big deal at all, still grinning.

“I missed you.”

And even though Tobin feels like all the breath’s just been knocked out of her, her brain manages to find a response.

“I missed you too, Chris.”

Christen just smiles, looking at Tobin with those green eyes and crinkle-y corners. Tobin finds herself grinning back and suddenly they’re just standing in the narrow hallway leading into the bedroom, smiling at each other.

(tobin still can’t believe christen hugged her on someplace that’s  _ not _ the pitch, but that’s beside the point.)

Then Christen turns away, leading Tobin into the hotel room where she flops on a bed, inviting Tobin to sit down beside her.

“That video Kelley sent was pretty great,” Christen smirks, letting her arm brush against Tobin’s. “I might have saved it.”

“Hey! That’s not fair,” Tobin replies and Christen laughs, her eyes crinkling again. “I need some bribery material too, okay?”

“Hmm. I’ll get back to you on that,” Christen replies, a sparkle in her eye.

“Better do it quickly,” Tobin murmurs. “What am I supposed to do next time I need to get you to do something?”

Christen turns her head and catches Tobin’s eyes, letting Tobin look into her own and suddenly something’s shifted in the air between them; it’s a little heavier, perhaps, a little more charged.

“And what, exactly,” Christen swallows, and Tobin can’t help but watch her throat move up and down, “would you want me to do?”

(it feels like something more than it has a right to be, tobin thinks, as she looks into christen’s eyes and notices the slight imperfections that only make christen more endearing. 

maybe it’s an invitation, a chance to be something more.

maybe that’s just wishful thinking.)

The words “maybe go on a date with me” are right on the edge of Tobin’s tongue when the door slams open and Pinoe comes walking in, talking on the phone while dragging her luggage.

“-yup, love you too. See you soon, babe.”

She hangs up the phone-

“Christen Annemarie Press, am I glad to see- oh.”

And Tobin admits the position they’re in might be slightly compromising; Christen’s hand somehow on top of Tobin’s, the way they’re angled towards each other, the way their shoulders are touching.

“Hey Tobs.”

Tobin ignores her desire to push Pinoe out of the window for her unfortunate timing.

“Press, I was going to ask if you wanted to get coffee or something but, um, you seem pretty occupied so-” she looks between Tobin and Christen, “I’ll leave you two to it.”

And they’re right back where they left off- except the tension’s gone, replaced by a slight awkwardness.

“So, are you ready to play Canada on Friday? Jill will probably have you start.”

Christen leans back, lets out a small laugh and a grin.

“Gosh, no. We’re going to get fouled so many times and I’m definitely going to be feeling it on Saturday.”

“I hope no one gets hurt,” Tobin replies, grinning, “especially you, Ms. Best Striker.”

Christen laughs again, her eyes sparkling.

“You’re just saying that.”

“Nah,” Tobin bumps her shoulder against Christen’s, “it’s true, Chris. You’re so good.”

And Tobin swears that a blush spreads across Christen’s cheeks but she could honestly be imagining it- she’s not really aware of anything that’s happening when Christen’s around.

“Yeah? You really think so?”

“Of course.”

\---

And Christen proves her right on Friday when it’s the 15th minute and Kelley serves her a long ball, arching high in the sky- 

Christen gains possession, slipping her defender by passing to herself, switching to her left foot, and drives it in.

The stadium erupts and Tobin’s the first one to reach Christen, dashing over to her and wrapping her arms around Christen’s neck, whispering  _ I’m so proud of you _ and  _ see I was right, you are the best striker _ under the stadium lights, even as everyone else crowds around Christen in a short goal celebration.

And even though it might’ve been just 30 seconds, it feels like time slows with Tobin’s head on Christen’s shoulder.

(just for a moment.)

Then they’re off again and the Canadians are fired up, tallying up fouls- Christen gets her jersey pulled at least five times as she makes her runs and Tobin gets shoved to the ground far too many times to count. The rest of the team isn’t faring too well either, with Alex getting kicked on her thigh and Kelley with a gash on her forehead.

The atmosphere of the game gets more frustrated, more physical as the first half draws on and there’s no goal from either team.

Becky gets a nosebleed.

Kelley gets a yellow card.

They head into the locker room one-nil but frustrated and bruised; Tobin can see Alex telling Kelley to shake it off because  _ it’s fine, I can still walk and that’s what matters _ and there’s anger rising in herself as well, at not being able to complete passes without getting elbowed, at watching her teammates get pounded, at the obvious bruises already forming on Christen’s legs.

“Hey,” Christen says, placing a hand on Tobin’s arm as she chugs down some water, “how are you doing?”

Tobin swallows, trying to slow down her breathing. “Frustrated.”

“That’s okay.”

Christen stops for a moment, looks at Tobin as if searching for something.

“Just, uh, just try to keep your head level, alright? I don’t want you getting ejected again.”

And Tobin can hear the worry in Christen’s voice and she hates it- she’s reminded of a couple of months earlier, when she  _ did _ get ejected and she promised to keep her cool from then on. She reminds herself she has no intention of breaking that promise, especially now, with Christen’s green eyes betraying her anxiety and the sweat gleaming off of her forehead from the harsh locker room lighting.

“I will,” Tobin replies, giving her best reassuring smile, “I swear, okay? I promised before and I promise again.”

Suddenly, she’s in Christen’s arms (again) but she lets herself relax into it this time, just enjoying the endorphins from Christen’s arms wrapped around her torso. 

\---

It’s the 78th minute of the game when it happens.

Solo catches a weak attempt at a goal by the Canadians, placing the ball down then serving it up.

Tobin watches as it arcs up, right down the middle of the field - and it should feel routine, but something seems off for some reason, maybe how everyone’s positioned, maybe how they’ve been struggling to keep their cool ever since the ref gave  _ Becky _ a yellow card for what looked like a light tap on the ankle - and then-

Christen and Grosso jump up to head the ball at the exact same time-

There’s a sickening collision that sounds like a  _ crack _ in her ears-

-and Christen falls to the ground-

There’s a ringing in her ears and all Tobin can hear is white noise.

She doesn’t know how but one moment she’s near the stands and then next she’s kneeling at Christen’s side, her lungs burning because  _ fuck, Christen’s not getting up and her eyes are closed and- _

(her head lulls to the side, just a bit, and tobin feels like she’s about to implode because it’s not right,  _ not yet- _ )

She briefly registers the medics and trainers beside her - some try to push her away but her hands are rooted on Christen’s shoulders, trying to wake her up - and they’re calling for a stretcher.

Christen’s eyes are still closed.

Tobin can’t breathe.

Then, suddenly-

“Ow.”

And Christen’s eyes are open and her hand is on Tobin’s forearm.

Tobin just takes one of Christen’s hands, weaving their hands together and using the other to wipe the tears from her eyes (and it sounds cheesy, she knows, like from a movie but this is somehow  _ real life _ , where christen gets knocked out and tobin sobs into her shirt), rubbing her thumb over Christen’s just to remind herself Christen’s still here.

Relief blooms in her chest, and everything feels like it’s almost going to be okay again.

“Hey Chris,” Tobin grins, sniffling a little, “glad you’re back.”

Christen just lets out a lazy smile and lets her fingers run across Tobin’s, and Tobin smiles one more time before letting herself get pulled away by Alex so that the medics can get Christen off the field.

(there’s a slight urge to go off on the canadian players, tobin admits, but she sees grosso on the ground too, her teammates crowding around her and christen’s words are echoing in her mind-  _ keep your head level _ . and tobin feels her anger dissipate just like  _ that _ .)

Her teammates don’t say anything about Tobin’s dropping to the knees or the stain marks still on her cheeks. She’ll just ignore the knowing looks from Kelley and Kling too; try to focus on the game.

Pinoe gets subbed in and play resumes.

But all Tobin can think of is Christen - if she got off the field safely, if they’re taking her to a hospital, if she’s okay.

(tobin doesn’t know what she’d do if christen wasn’t okay; her life, she realizes, has already morphed to having christen in it. texts, facetimes, phone calls - she doesn’t want to imagine what would happen if all of that was ripped away.)

—-

“Chris.”

“No.”

“I’m staying with you. Or you’re coming with me.”

“Are you sure people with concussions are allowed to fly?”

Tobin runs a hand through her hair in frustration, sitting in the driver’s seat of Christen’s car in the parking lot of the hospital. 

“You’re not staying in Philly for two weeks, Chris. They kept you for  _ extended observation _ because Dawn asked them to, and the doctors cleared you. You can fly.”

Christen grumbles beside her, pouting a little. Her nose scrunches up under her thick sunglasses, and it suddenly hits Tobin how cute she is with the sunlight pouring in from the windows, reflecting off some stray hairs on Christen’s face.

“I don’t want to trouble you.”

“Hey, think of it as like me paying you back for taking up your bed in Utah, okay? And the doctors said you need constant observation.”

Christen pouts a little more, overexaggerating a little by sticking out her bottom lip and Tobin laughs, placing an arm over Christen’s shoulders.

“Fine. But you have to promise that you won’t miss any practices because of me.”

“I’ll miss a maximum of three.”

“Tobin.”

“Christen.”

Christen just leans her head against Tobin’s shoulder in lieu of a response, letting herself slouch there a little.

“You’re always so nice to me,” Christen murmurs, her head finding the crook of Tobin’s neck, “when I fell you were the first one there.”

Tobin’s pretty sure this is the concussion talking since Christen’s voice is soft, lacking its normal articulate bite, almost like she’s about to fall asleep on Tobin’s shoulder.

(she wouldn’t mind, not in the least.)

“You remember?” Tobin asks a minute later, her voice soft to match Christen’s so that she doesn’t irritate Christen’s migraine, “hitting your head?”

“Only a little,” Christen murmurs, “just that little bit.”

Then, when Tobin’s certain Christen’s about to fall asleep, Christen murmurs something again.

“You hugged me on the ground. Felt nice.”

And Tobin wills herself not to go rigid at Christen’s words because she’d never thought she would end up in this moment - Christen Press leaning into her shoulder, breathing evenly with her sunglasses dropping slighting on the bridge of her nose.

—-

They get to the airport with plenty of time to spare (Tobin had booked a later flight knowing that they might need a little extra time) and they slowly go through customs, Christen basically clinging onto Tobin’s arm the whole time. Tobin makes Christen put on her earbuds so that she doesn’t get overstimulated and they board the plane without a hitch.

Tobin lets Christen take the window seat, Christen still holding onto her as they put on their seatbelts. She leans her head against Tobin’s shoulder, mimicking their position hours earlier. 

This new, more physical aspect of their something-more-than-friendship is welcoming but also a little bit terrifying. Because as much as they interact with each other on the team, hugging each other after goals, shoving each other around during practice, this is something else, something more- the comfortable, almost intimate way Christen can lean on Tobin or how Tobin can play with Christen’s hair and have it feel natural.

“Sleepy,” Christen mumbles into Tobin’s neck, “head hurts.”

“I know,” Tobin replies, twirling a strand of Christen’s hair around her finger. “You can sleep. We’ve got a while until we get to Portland.”

“Can’t believe you have an apartment now,” Christen says.

“I’m only renting,” Tobin replies. “And Alex lives with me a lot.”

“I won’t be bothering her, right?” 

“Nah, I already called her and she’s happy to stay with Kling for a bit.”

“Feel bad for kicking her out,” Christen says, and Tobin can detect a slight pout in her voice.

“You have a concussion, Chris. Don’t feel bad.”

And then Tobin leans in, just a bit, and kisses the top of Christen’s head.

(it’s driven by sheer instinct, Tobin swears.)

She’s in a little bit of a blind panic when Christen rustles a little, turning her head up so that her eyes - still green, still clear - meet Tobin’s.

She looks awake, aware - almost like she doesn’t have a concussion in the first place, and it steals Tobin’s breath away, just a little.

“That was nice,” she murmurs, and Tobin can feel Christen’s breath on her lips. 

“Can you do it again?”

Her brain short-circuits. 

She’s about have a fucking heart attack.

But then, suddenly-

_ “We’ve got some turbulence coming up-“ _

Tobin swears she’s going to murder the pilot as she watches Christen visibly cringe at the crackle from the speakers, pulling away from Tobin.

“Sorry,” Christen says, “that was-“

“Loud.”

Tobin still has an arm around Christen’s shoulder and Christen returns her head to its original position.

They spend a moment in silence, then-

“Are you still going to kiss me?”

Tobin stops for a minute, tries to calm her racing heart. 

She’s dreamt about this moment for an embarrassingly long time, from even before the night that they’d seen each other at the bar, but this is not how she’d imagined it happening- Christen concussed, lying on her shoulder in an economy seat since Tobin had booked their flights late, Tobin wearing sweatpants and a day-old t-shirt since she doesn’t have anything else that’s clean.

But she’ll run with it anyway. Because even if this isn’t how she’d imagined it to go, she wants this more than _anything,_ _has _wanted it for a very long time. 

That doesn’t stop her from giving Christen a way out.

“Maybe, uh, maybe later when you’re not concussed and we’re off a plane and, um-“

Christen stops her rambling with her hand on Tobin’s.

“Just ask me already, Tobin.”

(jesus christ, christen’s going to be the end of her.)

“Okay,” Tobin takes in a deep breath because she can’t believe she’s about to do this now, here, on a plane, “uh.”

She looks into Christen’s eyes again, just to make sure that Christen really wants this- something just a step higher than what they’ve already built up to over the past couple of months.

All she finds is softness, kindness, a look that Tobin can only hope is, dare she say,  _ loving _ .

(she takes another deep breath.)

A beat.

“Christen Press, will you go out on a date with me?”

And it’s a little more rushed, a little (okay, a lot) less romantic than she wants it to be but it seems like Christen doesn’t mind in the least because she nods her head yes, grinning even with her concussion.

“Of course.”

Christen leans her head up, then presses her lips against Tobin’s cheek.

Tobin transcends to heaven.

—-

And just to be sure, Tobin decides to ask her again a week later when Christen is most definitely not concussed anymore.

They’re lying on the couch, watching trashy reality TV, Christen leaning against Tobin’s chest. Yet Tobin can’t find herself focusing on the flatscreen for more than twenty seconds at a time because Christen looks adorable.

She’s wearing one of Tobin’s snapbacks, a Stanford hoodie, and a pair of sweatpants Tobin’s pretty sure are hers - she doesn’t mind, of course - but she still can’t believe Christen’s sitting here with her, that they’ve reached a point where they’re comfortable with cuddling, with forehead kisses and playing with each other’s hair. It’s more domestic Tobin had ever thought she’d turn out, but she loves it.

“Hey,” Christen says, jerking Tobin out of her daze, “what are you thinking about?”

“You,” Tobin replies, only sounding a little sheepish. “You look good in my snapback.”

“Is why you keep me around?” Christen asks, giving Tobin a playful nudge. “Because I look good?”

“It certainly helps,” Tobin says, and Christen giggles, her eyes crinkling up in their corners and her smile spreading wide. “But you’re also the multi-talented, well-spoken, extremely kind Christen Press, and I’d be really dumb not to keep you around.”

“Such a charmer,” Christen murmurs, smiling as she plants a kiss on Tobin’s cheek, and Tobin tries to hide the blush from her face.

They sit in silence for another few minutes as the TV plays and it hits Tobin that this is the time, that it won’t get any better than this - Christen sitting on her couch, wearing her clothes, a small smile still on her face because she, Tobin Heath, has the ability to make Christen Press laugh.

Tobin lets her hand find its way to Christen’s and she gives it a small squeeze.

“Go out with me sometime?”

And Christen turns her head so that she’s looking at Tobin, again, looking at her with something she can’t decipher.

“I already said yes, you know,” Christen says, grinning.

“Eh,” Tobin shrugs. “You were concussed. I’m not really sure if you’d want to after your brain started working again.”

Christen bats at her arm, shakes her head a little.

“Your answer is still yes, charmer. I’ll always go on a date with you.”

“Always?” Tobin asks.

“Well, maybe not always,” Christen replies. “If you keep leaving your socks and shoes everywhere I might refuse until you clean up the apartment.”

This time, Tobin swats Christen’s arm, grinning.

“I’m honored. And I’ll start picking up my stuff, okay?”

“Promise?”

“Always.”

And this time they both know there’s a deeper meaning behind it, a meaning they’re both perfectly okay with - even before the first date, the first kiss - something Tobin can commit to and something Christen can feel relaxed and happy about.

They’re here, in this moment,  _ finally _ , and even though it’s taken a while, they’re in each other’s arms and they’re  _ here _ .

And Tobin’s never felt more content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so the summary of the fic might have lied we got here a [i]little[/i] early oops. but one more after this guys, and then we're done (w this fic at least hint hint).  
also uswnt v portugal yesterday oh my gosh PREATH GOAL we love to see it!
> 
> oh yeah comments always appreciated! i love those email notifications :D also come scream at me @tobaggan23 on tumblr i guess


	6. floating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> three months later (i finally update)...

It’s a good game.

The Thorns are up 3-0 to the Courage and the home crowd feels electric; the chants, drums, amazing amount of red and green and pride flags. And Tobin wouldn’t be lying if she said she appreciated the boos of the crowd every time Hinkle touched the ball - ever since being traded to the Courage a year ago and refusing to wear the pride jerseys, her popularity had dropped.

(tobin thinks back to punching hinkle in the face, back before asking christen out on a plane, back before kissing christen for the first time, back before telling christen she loved her, back before her life had started to feel complete - and she can’t help that she grins a little.)

Tobin looks up into the stands, and she can’t help that her breath is taken away just a bit.

Christen’s standing there in a Heath #17 jersey, looking angelic even from their distance, and Tobin has to tell herself to look away and focus on where the ball is.

She’s called up to take a corner in the 89th minute and she lets herself feel the crowd for a moment before zoning them out, feeling the ball leave her foot-

Alex, of course, heads it in.

And then Tobin’s caught up in it all - rushing towards Alex, feeling her teammates pile on top of her, letting the feeling of victory and euphoria rush over her because this is her second assist of the night, turning her head to see Christen cheering and grinning at her - _ god_, she loves this, could not love life more than this kind of moment.

There’s nothing the Courage can do for the rest of the game, especially with the brick wall that is Franch, and they walk off the field with three points added to their sheet and zero goals against them.

Tobin takes her time in the locker room, chatting with Alex and Sinc, waiting for the crowds to clear out so that they can be alone.

(that’s one of the things she loves about their relationship, knowing that there’s no rush; they can take things at whatever pace they want, let it all happen naturally because it’s _ theirs _.)

Fifty minutes later, Tobin walks out into the empty halls other than one fateful person standing there with a grin on her face and suddenly she’s smiling like an idiot, running into her arms-

“Hey,” Christen says into her ear, “that was such a good game. You played so well.”

“Did you like my assists?” Tobin asks when they pull back from each other, still holding each other’s hands.

“I’m just happy you didn’t get in a fistfight again,” Christen replies, grinning.

“The crowd was doing it for me,” Tobin says, “and those assists were for you. You’re obligated to like them.”

“Oh? Just for me?”

“Just for you,” Tobin says, and suddenly Christen’s leaning in, giving her a quick kiss with a smile on her face.

“Charmer,” Christen replies. “You ready to head out?”

“Yeah. I made reservations.”

Christen gasps dramatically. “Tobin Heath, planning ahead? I would have never guessed!”

Tobin nudges her, laughing.

“I can do it when I want to, okay?”

They walk to Tobin’s car, Tobin’s arm draped over Christen’s shoulder and Tobin just feels so _ happy _ \- happy that they won, happy that she gets to play soccer every day, happy that Christen’s here _with her _ \- it’s a euphoria she hadn’t considered herself lucky enough to have.

Tobin drives them back to their apartment, making a quick stop so that they could both change and freshen up before their 8 pm reservation.

(deep down, tobin would rather that they go out to their third anniversary date with her jersey still on christen’s back - they’ve had discussions about this, of course, but that’s for another time when they’re not going out for what may well be one of the fanciest dinners of tobin’s life.)

Christen takes Tobin’s hand as they walk from the parking garage to the restaurant. And in an alternate universe, Tobin would lean down and quickly peck Christen’s lips, but they both know they’re public figures with fans that are _ very _ interested in their everyday lives.

“Three years,” Tobin murmurs.

Christen squeezes Tobin’s hand.

“I know. I can’t believe I’ve put up with you for three years.”

Tobin grins, turning towards Christen who’s grinning too. And she can see the lights reflected in Christen’s eyes, a glimmer there that she’s never gotten tired of.

“Best three years of my life,” Tobin replies, and she knows it sounds cheesy but it’s true - Tobin’s always loved her life so much, feels blessed that she’s able to play soccer and wear expensive sneakers and have the friendships she has, but Christen is someone that makes life- _ better _, if it makes any sense. Even through the occasional fights, miscommunications, Christen getting annoyed and Tobin not picking up her socks-

-life just seems brighter with Christen in it.

And Christen looks at her with a sort of sappy smile, saying “me too” then taking just a moment before planting a soft kiss on Tobin’s cheek.

It could be considered platonic to anyone who passed by but Tobin finds that she doesn’t care at this point - she blushes, just slightly, before lifting Christen’s hand and giving it a small kiss.

They get to the restaurant without any further incident and Christen orders the fanciest wine on the menu for them (truly, tobin has no idea what constitutes as a “good wine” - they all look the same to her), settling down at a corner table away from prying eyes.

Conversation flows and they get their food, some “tasting menu” Tobin thought sounded good on the restaurant website, but they take their first bite-

“Dude. What is even _ in _ this?” Tobin asks, because it’s unlike anything she’s ever had, and not in a good way either.

Christen only grimaces slightly before taking a sip of wine.

“It’s- an acquired taste.”

But Tobin’s already a little worried that she’s fucked this up - she made reservations, yes, but that doesn’t mean anything if the food isn’t _edible_\- and it must show on her face because Christen’s hand is suddenly on gripping onto hers.

“Hey. It’s fine, okay? We can ask for the next dish and if it’s like this one we can just get out of here.”

“Are you sure?” Tobin asks, “Because I just want this to be _good,_ okay, and you’ve gone through so much and we’ve been through so much together and this should be-”

Christen squeezes her hand and gives her a smile.

“It’s going to be good no matter what. Because I’m with you, okay? You don’t need to worry.”

And _ god _ , this is why Tobin loves Christen _ so much _ \- she’s somehow so in sync with Tobin and Tobin thinks it’s the same with her; they’re just so in tune with each other and know how to make each other laugh, cry, grin.

Tobin takes a deep breath, then smiles.

“Okay. Okay, it’ll be good. And chill.”

Christen grins, her cheeks rosy. 

“Very chill.”

And the next dish they get, to be frank, is just as bad as the first one and the waitress doesn’t bat an eye when Tobin asks for the check.

They dash out of the restaurant as quickly as possible and stumble out into the street laughing because they somehow got the wine to-go, Christen carrying it in a doggie bag. And Tobin’s body is warm, whether because of the alcohol or the company she’s not completely sure, but she puts an arm around Christen’s shoulder because no one’s taking photos of them at 9 pm on a Tuesday.

“Alright,” Christen says, and she looks at Tobin with a certain sparkle in her eyes, “where to?”

“How do burgers sound?”

Christen leans her head against Tobin’s shoulder, leaning her head up to press a sloppy kiss to Tobin’s cheek.

“Perfect.”

\---

They arrive at a park in the middle of the city with brown bags of greasy burgers and fries, and Tobin kicks her shoes off to feel the grass beneath her feet.

“Babe, you should watch where you’re going,” Christen says lightheartedly, “you could step on dog poo or something.”

“That was one time,” Tobin murmurs as she unwraps a burger and takes off her coat, putting it on the ground so that they have a place to sit. 

Christen takes it upon herself to rip open the bag holding all the fries and they sit there, night air crisp and there’s a small breeze that blows a stray strand in Christen’s face.

And Tobin reaches over and brushes it away, a small smile on Christen’s face before she leans in, giving Tobin a soft kiss (god, she’s so fucking lucky, and tobin doesn’t know what she did to deserve this). 

“You know what we should do?” Christen says after she pulls away, leaving Tobin a little breathless. “We should get churros.”

Tobin knows she isn’t saying no at this point, not when Christen looks so happy that she’s almost glowing.

“Fries _ and _ churros? We’re really going for it today, aren’t we,” Tobin pokes lightly and Christen elbows her side.

“I support your idea though. One-hundred percent.”

“Good.” 

“I wish we had a soccer ball,” Tobin murmurs, and Christen laughs and Tobin maintains that it’s one of the most wonderful sounds in the world.

“Well, we still need to get churros,” Christen replies. “Maybe after churros, we can go back and get a ball.”

Tobin can’t help but perk up at that and she’s standing up slowly, extending her hand to pull Christen up and she knows the grin on her face is sappy but she’s living the life right now and she’s so grateful for all of it. It’s a short ten-minute walk to the hole-in-the-wall food stand that they discovered a year and a half ago, back when Christen had just moved in and they walked around everywhere, trying to find the best places for everything.

They’re out a few minutes later, cinnamon sugar getting everywhere and Tobin says something that makes Christen laugh, and then they’re just grinning at each other like idiots.

Christen lets them swing by their apartment and Tobin runs up the stairs to get her beat-up ball and then takes her time walking back down, dribbling it until Christen gives her a kiss on the cheek and yanks them out of the building.

“You took too long,” Christen says as they’re walking down the street again, heading towards another park closer to their apartment.

“I was having fun, Chris,” Tobin replies, and she’s about to start dribbling again when Christen stops her.

“If you don’t dribble from here to the park, I’ll let you nutmeg me,” Christen says, putting her hand on Tobin’s arm, “because distracted walking isn’t safe.”

Tobin pouts but puts the ball underneath her arm, holding onto Christen’s hand instead until they get to the park. She nutmegs Christen within five seconds of setting the ball on the grass, of course, and Christen grins and takes the ball for herself.

They play 1v1 for minutes, hours, Tobin doesn’t keep track but then Tobin gets caught up trying to do rainbow and trips into Christen and they both go down in a tumble, laughing through all of it.

“Sorry,” Tobin says after they’ve quieted down, laying her head on the side to look at Christen.

Christen just laughs again, lying on the grass, and says “You are… something else.” and Tobin smiles wide and takes her hand.

And they’re looking up at the sky, again, not saying anything and Tobin feels a slight breeze and the grass beneath her back and--

“I’m just lucky,” Tobin admits. 

“I’ve got this job, this family,” she looks over at Christen again, “you.”

Christen takes a moment, an expression appearing that Tobin recognizes as her ‘thinking face’.

Her voice is soft when she begins again.

“I think you deserve all of this though.”

Tobin pauses a moment before talking again, “I’ve got to pass it on to other people though. Or else it’s not worth it.”

“You’re a very good person,” Christen says, and Tobin can’t believe that Christen (of all people) is telling _ her _ this when the very definition of good is, well, the woman beside her.

“You’re amazing,” Tobin replies, “and better than probably everyone and I love you.”

“You too,” Christen murmurs and she gives Tobin’s hand a squeeze, “I love you too.”

And they’re finally here, lying on a field late at night with city lights in the distance and the field beneath their backs, together, together.

(they could stay here forever.)

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i loved writing for this universe so much, y'all. thank you for the support and comments and kudos - you guys seriously make my day.
> 
> (i also think this is my first finished fic that was more than a few chapters, and your support was definitely a part of that, so thank you again.)
> 
> <3

**Author's Note:**

> dunno when i'm going to update again, but keep an eye out because i've been feeling a bit more inspired lately. chapter title from song mentioned in first A/N
> 
> comments welcome and appreciated!


End file.
